Reconciliation
by Angela3
Summary: Buffy wants to apologize to Spike, but he's not in a forgiving mood...


Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. I take no credit for them and apologize for being too lazy a writer to create my own characters.  
  
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The door of Spike's crypt was pushed slowly open to let the proceeding figure enter, creaking nosily on its rusted hinges in protest against the years of neglect and abuse. Soft footsteps sounded on the dusty stone floor, and Spike turned in his armchair to see who the unexpected guest was. Buffy. She was gloriously beautiful, yet his heart hardened at the sight of her. Sodding, stupid bitch. She'd come to charm him some more, no doubt.  
  
He rose to his feet, and with feigned disinterest greeted her. "Ah, the Slayer." All she managed to get in was "Spike - " before he interrupted. He smiled, and with his trademark sarcasm, continued. "It's so lovely to see you, and such a nice surprise, because I seem to recall something you said." He paused dramatically, scratching his head for added effect, continuing only after a moment as if a light bulb had gone off in his head. "Oh yes! I remember now. What were your words? You want me out of your life?" His voice continued to rise as he spoke. "Yeah, that's it. You want me out of your town and off of the planet. So tell me, did you come to woo me some more?"  
  
She was painfully aware of how much he was hurting behind his bitter words, and guilt overcame her for the harshness with which she had treated him. With a few long strides she covered the distance between them and looked into his eyes as if she had something very important to say. He was a bit disappointed when all she choked out was, "I'm sorry," barely audible.  
  
Spike was not affected by her words. They were words he'd never expected from her, but now that he'd heard them, they didn't seem to mean very much anymore. "Oh, sod off, will you?" he snapped. He could see the confusion and pain on her face now, and he relished in the fact that he could hurt her, too. Words were his power now…so what if he couldn't hit her? Words hurt even more than sticks and stones. "Payback's a bitch, isn't she, pet?" he thought to himself, smirking as he turned his back to her and reached for his whiskey bottle. Facing her again with a blank expression, he spoke. "Tell me love - why are you here? Did you come to kill me? Wanted to beat me to it?" He smiled, twirling a stake in his fingers. "Looks like you got here in the knick of time."  
  
Buffy looked in horror at his hand, noticing for the first time the stake that he clutched. "You - you wouldn't - you weren't -" she stammered.  
  
Spike sighed. "No. I only picked it up when you came in - thought you might be a big nasty out to get me. Although I can't say I've never flirted with the idea..."  
  
Fear ran through her, and she instinctively knocked the weapon from his hand. "Spike, don't you ever..." but he cut her off. "Hey! Watch it!" he exclaimed. Only then did she realize that she had caused him to spill whiskey on his black t-shirt. "And I'd just washed this one, too!" He removed the wet article from his body and made his way into the next room to find something else to wear, grumbling as he went.  
  
Buffy watched him with hungry eyes, intently gazing at his toned torso - his strong arms and his defined abs. She shouldn't like it, she knew. But as much as she didn't want to, she did. Pushing impure thoughts from her mind, she focused on a rusty candelabra on the wall. Yes it was working! As long as she thought of other things, she would be alright. Candle. La. Bra. What a strange word. Bra? Spike. Bra. Candles. Oh, what a lovely image it all created. Her mind was still on the candelabra, and it certainly was distracting her, but hardly in the way she had planned. Candle. La. Bra. She thought of herself and Spike, surrounded by candles, and Buffy in only her bra. Spike would rip it off in a fit of passion, the straps snapping easily from the destructive force of his cold, powerful hands…  
  
He entered the room again, this time in a tightly fitting red t-shirt that she had not seen him wear in ages. She was slightly disappointed that he had redressed, and also that her mind had so easily wandered into the gutter. Against her own will, she devoured him with her eyes now, for the shirt rippled over his every muscle. All the strength, all the power - she was captivated. Seeing the way she looked at him, Spike was instantly encouraged. Could it be real? No, he decided. He was imagining things. All it would ever be was wrong.  
  
"Anyway," he said, breaking the silence between them and continuing the conversation from earlier. "Why do you even care? It's not like you'd miss me."  
  
"No, Spike," she said, drawing closer to him. "I would miss you. I need you. That's why I'm here."  
  
Buffy was startled when he began to laugh bitterly. "Oh please," he said. "You don't need me. You even said so yourself." In a high-pitched yet angry voice, he mocked her words to him weeks before. "I don't need you, Spike. I never need you."  
  
"I lied," she said.  
  
"Buffy, really. You don't have to do this," he said. She must want some kind of favor from him. Yes, that was it. Rip his heart from his chest, then come crawling back to beg for forgiveness and plead for help at the first sign of trouble. Bloody women. He eyed her suspiciously. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Something wrong?"  
  
"Yes," she said. "I'm scared."  
  
"Buffy Summers, afraid?" he chuckled. "That's a new one. Somebody call the bloody papers." He shook his head slightly and looked back down at his retrieved whisky bottle.  
  
"I'm serious, Spike."  
  
"Okay, love," he said. "What is it this time? What big bad has your knickers in a knot?"  
  
"You," she said, nearly causing him to choke on his drink. "I'm scared of you."  
  
"What?" he asked. He set down his drink on the table to avoid further spills. "That's ridiculous. You know I can't hurt you."  
  
"Okay, let me restate that then. I'm not scared of you, I'm scared of us."  
  
"Us?"  
  
"Yes, us. What we have. You were right - there's something between us. I can't deny it anymore. I can't ignore it. It's real."  
  
Spike couldn't believe his ears. Could it really be true? Edging towards her, he pulled her body flush with his in one swift motion before she even realized he had moved from his previous position. "Say it again," he whispered.  
  
"It's real," she said.  
  
Just two words, but they were enough. He smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time, and kissed her with a fire that threatened daily to consume him. Yes, it wasn't pretty, but it was real. And that was enough for him. 


End file.
